


Cooking With Spies

by Zephyrfox



Series: In the Kitchen [2]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Bored Double O, Domestic Fluff, Don't copy to another site, Fluff, Injured Alec Trevelyan, M/M, Protective Q
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 08:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16869712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: Once again James Bond is away on mission, leaving Q to keep an eye on their injured lover. Alec Trevelyan has been kicked out of Medical once again, he's bored, and not even watching his favorite episodes ofThe Great British Bake Offis keeping him entertained. Q has his hands full keeping Alec entertained until James comes home.





	Cooking With Spies

 

Q studied the parts on his desk and selected the one he needed. He slotted it into place, then carefully set a screw into…. the metal. _Crap._ He corralled the dropped screw, then squinted at his project, tilting the piece to get a better look into the shadowed area under the flange. No use. It was just a bit too dark in the room. He reached over and flipped on his desk lamp. He almost wished he was in his workroom in Q-branch, rather than his home office. The lighting was better. Of course, he could open the drapes over the window, but he had no intention of doing that. It was full daylight outside. The glare would —

“Are you there?” The voice in his ear was overly loud.

“Of course,” he murmured, adjusting the volume on his earpiece. “No need to raise your voice, James.”

“Well, I’m sorry, Q. Next time I’m too close to an explosion I’ll ask them to turn it down to spare my hearing.”

“Explosion?” He bit back his worry. The fact that James was talking to him now meant that he was at least unhurt enough to be mobile. However, no one in Q-branch had contacted him to let him know that 007 had been in an explosion. He was going to have words with them about what to share when he got back to the branch. “What happened? There was nothing in your brief about needing an explosion to complete your mission.”

James sighed noisily, the sensitive microphone making it sound louder than it probably was, even with the volume on the earpiece lowered. “It’s a long story. I’m all right, though, and the mission is complete. I’m on my way home. I’ll fill you in when I get there.”

Q relaxed, closing his eyes in relief. He’d known that James would be fine, but confirmation was nice to have, especially since —

“Your assistant has me coming in on the next flight out. I should be home in a few hours.”

“Do you want me to —”

“What are you doing? _Durok!_ Don’t do that!”

Q turned his head, instinctively looking in the direction of the shouting, not that he could see through walls.

“What was that?” James sounded worried. “Is he —?”

The shouting in the living room continued. “Yes. I need to go take care of it. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“You’ll be all right? Both of you?”

Q smiled at the concern. “I’m sure it will be fine. I’ve got to go. I love you!” He turned off the earpiece right after James replied, his stomach fluttering just a bit, as it always did, at the way his lover returned the words. He put his project into the plastic bin beside his desk and closed it. No sense giving the cats a chance to make a mess of things while he was out of the room. The shouting had stopped, but he still needed to check, to find out what happened.

 

~~~~

 

Q stopped at the doorway to the living room. Alec sat in the recliner, a blanket covering his legs. The drapes were drawn in here, too, and the lamp threw Alec’s right side into shadow. The cats, Castor and Pollux, ignored the humans, as they napped together at the top of the cat tree. An episode of _The Great British Bake Off_ played on the television, and the carpet in front of it was littered with crumpled pieces of paper that must have been thrown for the cats to chase. Q sighed heavily. “Are you all right?” He kept his voice low, in case Alec had nodded off — quite possible, even though he had been shouting just minutes before.

“It’s not time for my meds yet,” Alec said, his voice gruff and sounding as petulant as a child — albeit a very deadly child.

“No,” Q said, keeping his voice even, “but you were shouting. What’s the matter?”

There was an embarrassed silence.

“Love?” He went into the living room, stopping next to the side table beside the recliner. “Talk to me, please.”

Alec hit the pause button on the remote. “One of the bakers binned his Baked Alaska. Idiot. He should have presented it to the judges anyway.”

Q hid his smile at the note of outrage. Alec was unexpectedly passionate about this show. “Maybe it’s time to take a break from watching?”

Alec shifted — slowly — to look at him. “But the next episode is just starting!”

Seeing the difficulty Alec had in moving almost broke Q’s heart. It definitely _was_ time for his meds. Being pain-free would help him heal. “If you want to take a break from the telly, I have a surprise for you.”

Interest crossed Alec’s face, followed by suspicion. “What kind of surprise?”

Q moved closer, bending over his lover. He fussed with the blanket covering Alec’s legs, tucking it in better along his right side.

“C’mon, Q, you can’t just say something like that and not tell me!”

He smirked at the whine. “I’ll tell you if you’re patient. Do you feel like going to the kitchen?”

Alec perked up at that. “Is the surprise in the kitchen?”

“You’re too good for me, 006. You’ve figured it out,” he said with a wry smile.

“I didn’t figure out anything. You still haven’t said what the surprise was,” Alec grumbled.

“Well then, you need to come to the kitchen. Are you ready to get up?” Q waited, and when Alec nodded, he helped his lover stand up as the recliner raised. The power recliner had been expensive, but it was worth it when one of his agents was injured. It really was surprisingly comfortable — when both his lovers were out on missions and the bed felt too empty, he sometimes slept in it himself.

When Alec seemed steady, balanced on his left leg, Q handed him the crutch. “Do we need to adjust your brace?”

Alec snorted impatiently. “It’s fine. I don’t even need it.”

_Yes, you do,_ Q thought, rolling his eyes, but let it go since the brace couldn’t easily be removed one-handed. He followed Alec into the kitchen, their progress a little faster than he’d have liked — especially given the tense muscles in Alec’s neck.

He and James had both been worried when Alec had gone dark on his last mission, and James had gone out to search for their lover. James had found Alec and brought him home, bruised and broken. Alec’s right side was a mess — his arm was broken, his ribs cracked, and his knee dislocated. Naturally he’d made a pest of himself in medical until they threw him out, basically begging Q to take the fractious Double O home.

He got Alec situated in one of the kitchen chairs, with his knee propped up on a stool. The key to successfully seeing a Double O through their recuperation lay in keeping them sufficiently distracted from their injuries and perceived limitations. With that thought, after he counted out Alec’s meds, he went to the cupboard where he’d hidden a nondescript cardboard box. He placed it and the pills on the table in front of Alec, along with a glass of water. “Pills first.”

It was a mark of just how much pain Alec was in when he downed the pills without complaint. Q nudged the box a little closer so Alec wouldn’t have to reach for it.

Suspicious green eyes flicked up to him, then back to the box. “What is it?”

“Open it and see.”

Alec shifted the box toward his right side, bracing it against his cast, and fumbled the flaps with his left hand. Q bit his lip, but resisted offering to open it himself. The point of this was to make sure Alec knew he wasn’t completely helpless.

“What’s this?” Alec dug through the crumbled newspaper and pulled out a metal object. A broad grin spread over his face. “A blowtorch!”

“Yep. And you can use it now, if you like. I’m planning to cook a pizza in the iron skillet. You can finish it with the blowtorch. Afterward, we have a pan of brownies just begging for marshmallows toasted over them.”

Alec petted the blowtorch the way he would pet one of the cats. “On one condition.”

Now Q felt suspicious. “Condition?” he asked warily.

“Come here.” Alec took Q’s hand and pulled him closer, angling his face up.

Oh! “Of course,” Q murmured, and kissed Alec. He caressed Alec’s cheek as he stood up. “Why don’t you tell me about your show while I get the pizza started?”

Alec grinned and launched into a description of the show. Q let his lover’s words wash over him as he made the pizza, until — “Wait, a _guillotine?”_

“Yes, it’s a clever little gadget, Paul Hollywood and Mary Berry were impressed. Nancy used it to make sure her mini cakes were uniform in size and can I have one, Q? You could make it for me. Or James. His birthday is coming up, you know.”

Q kept his groan to himself. Between Alec and James, their kitchen was full of unused cooking gadgets.

 

~~~~

 

James let himself into their flat, trying to be quiet. Hopefully Alec and Q were sleeping, and he wouldn’t disturb them climbing into bed. He had rested on the plane, but he was looking forward to cuddling with his lovers. But instead of the darkened room he was expecting, the living room was flooded with light. Motion to his right caught his eye. Pollux was grooming himself on the top level of the cat tree, completely ignoring his entrance, and Castor was nowhere to be seen. _Cats._ Voices to his left told him which direction he needed to go. He was lucky his hearing had finally returned to normal — or near normal. There was undoubtedly a hearing test in addition to his usual post-mission physical in his future. He dropped his bag in the recliner on his way to the kitchen.

“James! You’re just in time. I’m testing out my new toy.” Alec grinned at him from the table, surrounded by the detritus of food preparation. A pie pan covered with a heaping mound of meringue sat before him in pride of place.

He was pleased to see Alec looking so well, but the taut skin around those green eyes betrayed the pain his lover was feeling.

“It’s not a _toy,_ Alec,” Q said in a long-suffering voice.

Concerned, James looked over to where their boffin stood, arms folded and one hip leaning against the counter. He was relieved when Q winked at him.

“What’s that, a new gadget?” He walked over to Q and whispered, “Pain meds?”

Q shook his head, mouthing, “Not time yet.”

James nodded, giving him a quick kiss, and then went to sit next to Alec, leaning over to inspect the complicated silver tube in his lover’s hands.

“Yes! Look at this,” Alec fiddled with the top of the gadget, producing a blue flame. He held it close to the meringue, heating it until it browned, then moved the blowtorch to a new section.

“Very nice!” James glanced at Q and teased, “I thought you said no more gadgets for the kitchen?”

Q shrugged, hazel eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “I made an exception.”

Alec leaned close and confided, “I asked him to make us a guillotine next. For your birthday.”

“I never agreed to that,” Q protested.

“Guillotine? Are we executing French nobles now?” James looked from Alec to Q. “I would have thought you’d prefer your sniper rifle.”

Alec snorted, not taking his attention off his blowtorch. “Of course I’d prefer a rifle. Don’t be daft. The guillotine is for slicing cakes in half with precision.”

“Ah, I see. That’s clever.”

Alec nodded. “Yes, that’s what I thought.” He browned the last bit of the meringue and extinguished the flame.

Q had been obviously waiting for that. As Alec laid the blowtorch on the table, Q scooped up the meringue covered pie pan and put it in the refrigerator. “How did the mission go?”

James leaned back in his chair and hit the unclassified highlights of his mission, deliberately avoiding any mention of the explosion. He knew Q caught the omission, but he would explain fully later, after his debriefing with M. Alec pointed out where _he_ would have done a much better job of completing the mission, and it took all James had not to laugh out loud. How had he gotten lucky enough to have two lovers who fit him so well?

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication. Feel free to stop in to say hi - you can find me on Tumblr at leavesdancing.tumblr.com, or at my Bond fandom tumblr, zephyrfox.tumblr.com.


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